


A Birthday Fit for a King

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Birthday Sex, Canon-Era, Domesticity, Established Relationship, In which Sam doesn't want anything for his birthday but George insists, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, thoughtful gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8606425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Samuel turns thirty, and George, of course, strives to ensure he has the best birthday celebration possible. Samuel is very touched.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of Kingbury](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530660) by [thegreatgayjatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby). 



> I wrote this as a response chapter for my fic "Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of Kingbury", which is essentially a 50 prompt challenge. This is chapter 22, and I am publishing it as a free-standing piece because it is long enough to do so and this pairing needs more good smut and cute, fluffy oneshots. So here we go.

It was Samuel’s birthday. Really, you only turn thirty once, and of course, George was making a huge deal out of it. Samuel had spent the past month dodging questions about presents and favorite restaurants and _did he like chocolate fondue_? It was all very tiring, honestly, and when he’d finally produced a small list of answers for George, His Majesty had taken it and run with every idea possible.

Sam knew George was materialistic, but not to this extent. George wanted to express his love through things, and Sam understood that, but wasn’t necessarily a hundred percent comfortable with it. His birthday meant more to George than it did to him, he realized with a fond roll of his eyes. George had to have everything perfect.

He’d gone to sleep the night before with George draped around him, murmuring about how tomorrow was going to be just absolutely wonderful, and they’d have so much fun together. The sentiment meant more to Sam than whatever actual plan George had put into place.

When he awoke, it was to find George absent from his side and instead, between his legs. The bishop blinked awake, took one look in the general direction of downwards, and promptly blushed a dark red. The second sensation that hit him was George’s tongue laving across the head of his apparently very interested dick. Sam groaned and gripped the blankets in one hand and covered his face with the other.

His hand was cool against his flushed cheeks, and he could hear George positively giggle before taking him into his mouth. Samuel whimpered and canted his hips a little. George took this in stride and took Sam all the way to the back of his throat. When he swallowed, Sam’s hand fell away from his face, and he shifted onto his elbows to watch.

It was always a treat to experience His Majesty on his knees, and a lazy smile made itself at home on Samuel’s face. He ran a hand through George’s hair, jaw slackening as the King looked up from beneath his eyelashes and swallowed again.

“ _Jesus_ ,” He hissed, more than willing to take the Lord’s name in vain.

George drew back happily and, for once, didn’t make a comment regarding sacrilegious practices. Instead, he just smiled broadly and moved back down on Sam’s cock. Samuel’s eyes rolled back a little, and he tightened his grip in George’s hair. The King hummed encouragingly, and Samuel gently pushed him down.

His Majesty’s hands roamed about Samuel’s sensitive inner thighs as he bobbed under Samuel’s direction. His tongue was absolutely in cahoots with the Devil, and Samuel thought he must have said this aloud, as George’s muffled laugh around his cock sent shudders up his spine.

It didn’t take long at all for him to spend himself down the King’s throat, and when George sat up happily, they locked eyes. George swallowed very pointedly, and Samuel blushed again, slumping back into the pillows with post-coital weakness. George laughed again and tugged Samuel’s nightclothes back into place before falling to his side.

Samuel drew George into a slow kiss, tasting himself, and murmured, “Good morning,” against George’s mouth.

His Majesty shifted back to kiss Sam’s nose. “Happy birthday, darling.”

Samuel grinned. “Was that my present?” He asked teasingly, knowing fully well that George wouldn’t leave the celebration at that.

True to his character, George snorted derisively, looking offended. “Good heaven’s no. That was just your wake up call.”

Samuel’s grin remained. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. He watched with curiosity as George went to get dressed, bringing Sam his own clothes. The outfit he’d been chosen was tailored and fancy, surely very expensive. He hadn’t seen it before. It wasn’t even a present, he knew, just something George thought he ought to have.

He dressed much slower than George did, enjoying as the King stood, foot tapping impatiently by the door. The bishop approached him, feeling dolled-up in the evergreen frock coat and dark breeches. He paused to kiss George deeply, then passed out of their room into the hallway.

George hurried to catch up to him, finding great amusement that Sam seemed to know their exact itinerary. They absconded to the gardens together, where the servants had prepared a fine breakfast. Sam thought he probably enjoyed the food most out of all of George’s luxuries. George knew this.

They ate together, then took leave to the King’s Library. George had had several rare religious texts imported for Samuel. Samuel was floored at the thoughtfulness of the gift. The next item for the day was a walk along the Thames. George had servants waiting with a picnic. The food, again, was delicious. They went on a little horseback ride behind Buckingham, then, attended evening church service. Samuel had never seen George actually attend any service, and they held hands under the lip of the pew. George listened with rapt attention. Samuel felt overly-emotional.

The bishop was relieved to retire from the service to George’s chambers. They took dinner, extravagant as always, in George’s room, and Sam felt dizzy with the wine and emotions. George scooted out of his chair to straddle Sam’s lap in his, kissing him senseless. This went on for a long while, before George slipped from Sam’s lap and ordered him to close his eyes.

Sam smiled to himself, listening as George moved about the room, collecting something out of the drawers of his dresser. “Can I open my eyes yet?” He asked, when he felt George return to his claimed spot in his lap.

“Yes,” Came the answer, George’s voice tight with excitement.

He brandished a lovely little wrapped parcel, and Samuel took it from him graciously. “What’s this?”

“Open it! I’m not telling you.” That little offended tone had wiggled its way back into George’s voice, and Samuel kissed him on the cheek to placate him as he carefully unpackaged the gift.

George watched with thinly-veiled impatience. “You don’t have to save the wrappings, Sam,” He whined, and Samuel opened it all the more careful, just to be a bother.

Under the wrappings was a small, cherry wood box, engraved with Samuel’s initials and some carvings. It didn’t look expensive at all, but was fine work. He glanced up briefly at George, who, with the gift between them, looked very nervous.

“This is beautiful.” Sam murmured, tracing the engravings with his fingertips.

“Open it.” George implored, voice dropping to a whisper.

Samuel complied. Within the box was a velvet pouch. He plucked that out and opened it. Within, was a beautiful, rubied rosary. Samuel felt a lump of emotion rise in his throat.

“Georgie,” He said weakly, looking up and meeting George’s eager gaze.

“It was my mothers,” George explained quickly, smiling. “She would have wanted you to have it.”

Samuel didn’t realized he was crying until George enveloped him in a hug, surrounding him in warmth and mumbling that he loved Samuel more than he loved anything on the entire earth. Samuel let a sob break its way from his chest, and he clung to George, the beautiful box cradled between them, the rosary in his hand.

George spent the next while humming to the other, kissing his cheeks and hands and whispering that Samuel was his world. Samuel managed to stop crying long enough to disentangle them, and George gently placed the box on his writing desk. Samuel slipped the rosary into its velvet pouch, then returned it to the box.

“I had that made in America, you know. Connecticut. I thought you’d like having it done from your birthplace.” George said proudly, as he bundled Samuel into bed.

They settled into each others’ arms, and Samuel sniffled a little, tucking his face into George’s shoulder. “It’s perfect. _You’re_ perfect. I love you.”

“Happy birthday, darling. I love you, too.”

Samuel decided that he wanted to celebrate for his thirty-first birthday, next year, too.


End file.
